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Stray Bullets (Single Issues) #21-24
The Collected Stray Bullets, Vol. 6
Comic book. Color cover, black and white interior. An Amy Racecar adventure story. First appearance of Amy Racecar.
126 pages, Paperback
First published April 24, 2002
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
August 28, 2018
Imagine this: Ever just wish you could break down your favorite/or most hated book unto a simple chapter? A prepared appetizer for neophytic low-attention spanners, a best hits source to be quote mined by journalists and critics alike, or maybe even just something to by cherished by those with already too many dustcovers bursting from aged holding cells of wood and thumbtack tails. Every single book should have such a holographic-entry-point (as it were,) and if there was not one already for Stray Bullets it would definitely be it’s most sterling gem (up until the present) issue #22.
Finally after 21 goddamn issues, there is something to write home about that is mostly positive. Once again excavating the source mine of material: Pulp Fiction, Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace’s date at (the already psychedelic enough) Jack Rabbit Slimm’s, finds itself repossessed and remolded to fit the static three dimensions of the comic book. With a surprisingly deft attention to detail of people and places, superbly organic dialogue propels forth a character perfectly befitting of Noir: that of the Femme Fatale. Lapham has finally learned the lesson that less is more: and the applications derived from the stylistic attache titled PURE NOIR: were sprinkled in with an inversely proportional effect, to its favor.
On the other hand however, the first (20#) and third (23#) mishmash within themselves an attention to style and storytelling that seemingly is attempting mature, finds its new growths in uneven distillations. With 20# being just another boring rag, 23# somewhat picks up speed if not is still held down by the inherent dysfunctions and sins of the series since the beginning. So just as always, no matter far we get on that platonic Happy-O-Meter, the glass-ceiling of internalized quality seems quite unbreakable for the upcoming future.
Capstone #24 ends the mini-collection on a semi-satisfactory note thensceforth. Still burgeoning with potential, the stylistic choices in favor of chaos and energy en media res in lieu of something far more structured and cohesive, strangely enough prove to be a stranglehold on the series. With too much freedom set in stone, Stray Bullets veers off unto what could be expected of an author favoring way too much of the avante-garde whilst overexposing his own personal flaws by worshipping the false god of Postmodernism: Stray Bullets…
Finally after 21 goddamn issues, there is something to write home about that is mostly positive. Once again excavating the source mine of material: Pulp Fiction, Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace’s date at (the already psychedelic enough) Jack Rabbit Slimm’s, finds itself repossessed and remolded to fit the static three dimensions of the comic book. With a surprisingly deft attention to detail of people and places, superbly organic dialogue propels forth a character perfectly befitting of Noir: that of the Femme Fatale. Lapham has finally learned the lesson that less is more: and the applications derived from the stylistic attache titled PURE NOIR: were sprinkled in with an inversely proportional effect, to its favor.
On the other hand however, the first (20#) and third (23#) mishmash within themselves an attention to style and storytelling that seemingly is attempting mature, finds its new growths in uneven distillations. With 20# being just another boring rag, 23# somewhat picks up speed if not is still held down by the inherent dysfunctions and sins of the series since the beginning. So just as always, no matter far we get on that platonic Happy-O-Meter, the glass-ceiling of internalized quality seems quite unbreakable for the upcoming future.
Capstone #24 ends the mini-collection on a semi-satisfactory note thensceforth. Still burgeoning with potential, the stylistic choices in favor of chaos and energy en media res in lieu of something far more structured and cohesive, strangely enough prove to be a stranglehold on the series. With too much freedom set in stone, Stray Bullets veers off unto what could be expected of an author favoring way too much of the avante-garde whilst overexposing his own personal flaws by worshipping the false god of Postmodernism: Stray Bullets…
Displaying 1 of 1 review